


A daring rescue

by alessandralee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bars and Pubs, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2791193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jemma spots a cute woman being harassed at the bar, and can't help but interfere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A daring rescue

**Author's Note:**

> My giant list of AUs I want to write includes "pretending to be your best friend because you look very uncomfortable with that guy hitting you at the bar." This deviates a little, but I like the idea.

“Just go talk to her,” Bobbi urges.

She’s referring to the cute girl sitting at the bar, who Jemma noticed almost as soon as they entered.

“What if she’s not into women, though?” Jemma responds. That was the problem with going to the bars Bobbi chose. Too many straight girls sending confusing signals.

“Then you’ll make a new friend who you secretly want to screw,” Bobbi shrugs her shoulders, as though that’s a perfectly sane state to be in.

Considering whatever the hell Bobbi’s got going on with her ex (again), Lance, Jemma probably should have given up on her romantic advice a long time ago.

That and Bobbi’s advice when it comes to drinks. Jemma doesn’t care how many syrups and fruit juices you put in a drink, it never masks the awful taste of whiskey.

“Oooh, looks like you lost your chance,” Bobbi nods towards the woman Jemma had been looking a. She’s just been joined by a tall blond guy in an olive green polo shirt. “But maybe they’re just friends.”

Jemma watches as the woman turns her head away from the guy and focuses on her drink, as though she’s trying to use her dark hair as a shield from him.

Jemma’s pretty sure they’re not friends. Hell, it looks like all she really wants is for the guy to disappear.

Jemma can’t hear them from her table, nor can she read lips, but it’s not hard to get the gist of what’s going on. He asks if he can buy her a drink, she hold up her half-full glass and politely declines. He asks if she’s waiting for anyone, she looks around the room in desperation and says yes (and maybe she is, but they’re certainly not here yet). He ignores her obvious brush off.

It’s painful to watch, Jemma’s been there plenty of times before.

So without thinking much about it, she stands up and pushes her drink towards Bobbi.

“You can finish it,” she tells her friend before she crosses the room to the bar.

“There you are,” she exclaims loudly as she approaches the uncomfortable woman.

Two heads turn to look at her, one of them visibly relieved.

“You’re late, babe,” the woman replies

Jemma’s not quite sure if that’s a friendly babe, or a romantic babe (although she’s certainly hoping for the latter), but she wedges herself past the polo guy anyway.

“Babe?” he asks, also confused by the endearment.

“Yeah, this is my girlfriend—“

“Jemma,” she offers, sticking out a hand and forcing a friendly smile onto her face. She wants to be hostile, the guy’s a creep, but more than that she just wants him gone as quickly as possible.

“You’re gay?” he ignores Jemma’s outstretched hand.

“Bi, actually,” the woman corrects her.

“And no, we’re not interested in a threesome,” Jemma anticipates his next question. She’s heard it enough times herself.

“Whatever,” the guy turns to head back to the table where his friends are waiting.

Jemma can feel their eyes on her back as she takes the empty stool next to her fake girlfriend, whose name she still doesn’t know.

“Thank you,” the other woman says. “Let me buy you a drink to show my appreciation.”

Jemma still has her disgusting drink waiting back at the table with Bobbi (who can drink pretty fast when she wants to, but probably hasn’t gotten to it yet), but the creep table is still watching. That’s enough reason for Jemma to stick around.

The fact that the girl is even cuter up close than she was from afar is just a bonus.

“White wine,” she says, feeling like it’s a safe choice, and the other woman orders it.

“I’m Skye, by the way,” she introduces herself.

She looks like a Skye, in Jemma’s opinion. Cool and effortless and a little bohemian. And oozing unintentional sex appeal.

Jemma’s drink might be going to her head on that last one. ‘Oozing unintentional sex appeal’ is not the kind of phrase she general uses.

“Good to know, seeing as how we’re in a relationship and all.”

Skye laughs, and Jemma feels warm inside.

“Are they still watching,” Skye asks and Jemma turns around to look.

“I think they’ve moved onto someone else,” Jemma replies. 

It’s too much to hope that they’ve left completely, as much as she’d like that to be the case. Men who don’t care about a woman clearly wanting to be left alone, certainly won’t be scared off by a tiny British women and her pretend girlfriend.

The bartender drops her glass of wine in front of her and Jemma takes a sip. It’s the cheap stuff, like she expected, but it’s definitely better than whatever Bobbi ordered her earlier that night.

“Would you like to join my friend and I?” Jemma offers. 

She’d like to stay here with Skye, she’s really like that, but Bobbi sounded like she needed someone to vent to (about Lance, for the thousandth time), and she doesn’t want to just abandon her friend.

Getting to know Skye, with Bobbi playing wingman, sounds like an excellent compromise.

Skye downs the rest of her drink and winks at Jemma.

“Would you like to get out of here?” she counters.

The answer is yes, she’d love to. But it’s also no, she can’t.

She turns back to the table where she left Bobbi, to find her friend waving towards the door and mouthing “go go go.”

“Sounds like she’s okay with you leaving,” Skye says with a laugh.

On second thought, Jemma’s listened to Bobbi make the same complaints about Lance over and over again. She’s pretty sure Bobbi can have the conversation with herself at this point. And besides, she’s a self-defense teacher and friends with pretty much everyone in town. If there’s anyone she doesn’t have to worry about in this bar, it’s Bobbi.

Smiling, Jemma grabs Skye’s hand and pulls her towards the door.

Her wineglass sits on the bar, with barely a sip taken from it.


End file.
